


Aren't we just (terrified)

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: The Cabin in the Woods (2011)
Genre: Angst, Animal Traits, Biting, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Dubious Consent, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Riding, Romance, Sexual Content, Transformation, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: "You can't fix that. It's literally on fire," Dana slurred, hair tacky with red that tugged at the little hairs on the back of neck as she shifted. Fixing unfocused eyes on the perfectly not on fire lake they were hiking around.
Relationships: Marty Mikalski & Dana Polk, Marty Mikalski/Dana Polk
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "The Cabin in the Woods" or any of the movie's characters, wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: This is set after the credits in an au where Dana and Marty survived the destruction of the facility and are trying to survive outside in the hours after the Old Gods do their tip-toe through the human tulips routine. Inspired by the prompt: "You can't fix that. It's literally on fire."
> 
> Warnings: dubious consent, sexual content, riding, biting, animal traits and behaviors, werewolves, canon typical violence, blood and injury, drama, romance, angst, friends to lovers, transformation, PTSD.

"You can't fix that. It's literally on fire," Dana slurred, hair tacky with red that tugged at the little hairs on the back of neck as she shifted. Fixing unfocused eyes on the perfectly _not_ _on_ _fire_ lake they were hiking around.

He looked behind them just in case.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

He coughed, spitting a mouthful of dust and blood to the side. Or at least he tried to. It ended up splattering a fresh layer of yuck on his left sneaker. _Figures_. He coughed again. Deeply hating his choice of footwear as he hissed a breath when the uneven rock bit into his soles.

He really must have been stoned when he left town in high top kicks.

_Jesus._

The lake bed was still roiling, frothy with backwash from the last inland tsunami, a busted dam or maybe just a badly timed canon ball. All caused by giant feet and probably a few other things he didn't want to think about. He was convinced that merman thing was in there somewhere. Probably burping up bones or someone's liver. The absence of horrible things just made him suspicious it was happening somewhere else.

"You can't fix it...you can't- you can't-" Dana murmured, restless. Cheek furnace-hot against his ear. Sweat and blood rolled between them. Maybe some vomit to. It was hard to tell and they were past caring.

He wouldn't have been surprised if the lake _had_ been on fire. It had been three days since the cabin and the underground facility. And one day - maybe - his watch and phone were busted, since he'd dragged Dana out of the rubble and found a bloody access hatch to the surface.

"Don't worry," he told her, hiking her higher on his back as the arms around his neck went dangerously lax. "The water can put itself out. That's what water does."

Which was technically true.

But again, as far as he could tell, there was no fire.

"-'kay," she whispered. Sounding small and young as her fever only got worse.

He wondered what she was seeing.

Or maybe the water on fire was more of a metaphor.

He didn't care.

A few days ago he would have cared.

He would have reigned the idiot king of every pointless philosophical debate, marinated in reefer and ignorance. Smart in the head, but never on paper. Now he wondered how much of that had been those fucking assholes. The puppeteers. He used to actually write his essays. Do the assignments. Then he'd been floating. Cloudy. Happy. Failing his classes, sure. But happy. His parents had been furious, threatening to pull the plug if he didn't get his grades up by the end of the semester. But for some reason, he'd been content with the status quo. Nothing had fazed him.

When had that started?

When had-

"Marty...I-"

"Just a little longer," he coaxed, too chicken-shit to let her finish. Knowing he'd cave. Knowing every pained little word from her was deadly. They had to keep moving. They had to. The farther they put between them and that horror show, the better. "Just to that ridge, okay?"

He lied.

He kept walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And-

She was too out of it to call him on it.

* * *

The world lost the last ghosts of safety when twilight fell. That was when the monsters started lurking around every tree instead of trailing behind them.

He kept walking.

Stumbling.

Falling.

Crying.

Cursing.

He kept going until Dana slipped down his back to the soft moss and he collapsed beside her. Curling into her heat as the night sounds grew louder and louder. Burying his face into her back until all he could hear was the too-fast thud of her heartbeat and all the reasons why he'd pushed himself until he _couldn't_ anymore.

* * *

He didn't breathe without sharp edges until the next morning. It was before dawn when the fading stars finally peeked out from behind the smog. Hazy and distant with far off fires and dust clouds, but there. Still there. Thank fuck.

_'I thought there'd be stars. …We are abandoned.'_

It felt like a million years ago.

He exhaled slowly. One hand pressed against the grate of broken ribs as he stared up at them through the forest canopy. Watching until he couldn't see them anymore. Until the sun made his eyes hurt. Until he breathed like something that _wasn't_ prey and panicking.

He didn't know if they'd make it, but at least there was something left to make it for.

* * *

There was a river a few feet from where they'd spent the night. He half-crawled to it. Not bothering to wonder if it was a good idea as he cupped his hands and drank. His body tried to gag up the taste of mildew and green, but he swallowed it. Drinking until his belly sloshed when he fell back on his elbows. Drunk on the novelty as hunger screamed through the ocean in his stomach.

* * *

She was awake and watching him when he stumbled back to the hollow

Pale. Dirty. Sunken-eyed. But there. Present. _Aware_.

They were predator's eyes.

He didn't look away.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" she asked, before the silence became terminal.

"Right? No," he answered, fumbling with the shredded hem of his t-shirt. Looking down at the gun he'd left beside her, then away again. Wondering if she was thinking of using it. "Understandable? Yes."

Her breathing was labored. Clothes filthy and torn. Flapping around her like a second skin as her hair clumped thin with dried blood. She was a mess. But in the way beautiful, unearthly things are in their natural habitat. Nipples pebbled through the gape of her shirt as she slowly unwound the bandages he'd patched her up with before they found the access hatch.

"Can you live with that?" she asked, watching him through slitted eyes.

It was a fair question. Especially considering he hadn't expected to live long enough for guilt to be a problem. But he knew the answer. He was consumer of self-preservation and the kind of 'fuck you, and the golf-cart you rode in on' retribution that made his teachers love to hate him. He'd meant what he said. The system was broken. If _that_ was what it took to keep the monsters away, why lose your soul for just another fucking year?

"Yes," he hushed. Voice pitchy and rough and a thousand shades of not okay.

"Me too," she admitted, as the last of the bandages shivered into her lap. Revealing perfect, uninjured skin in place of the gaping wounds that had been there a day before.

She met his eyes as she scratched at the bloody crusts that crowned her throat. Head tilted east.

"I feel better," she told him, eying him through long lashes. Leaving the rest of the explanation unsaid as a chorus of birds made nervous sounds in the trees above them.

He swallowed hard, feeling it in his throat.

"Good. That's good."

* * *

He wasn't going to run.

He wasn't.

Until he did.

* * *

They found a cabin a few days later. Too exhausted to care that there was blood splattered across the side or drag marks angling from the front porch. Instead, they ate canned soup and tuna from rusted cans until he spewed it back up through the front window. Too scared to go outside as far-off screams carried down the dirt road. It was the first road they'd seen since the escape hatch. Presumably it went somewhere. He just figured they didn't want to find out where. Not right now. Not when the air was still screaming.

He wasn't thinking about running when they collapsed on a stale mattress and slept until the light went out. He wasn't thinking about it when he watched the light change through closed lids. He started thinking about it after a soft puff of air huffed across his skin. Heart thundering in his chest as the little hairs on his arms prickled a warning.

Dana was staring at him.

He didn't have to see her to know.

She was so close to his face he could have pouted his lips and kissed hers.

But he didn't.

_He wouldn't._

Somehow he knew that would break whatever this was and everything would end in tears.

Or worse.

He stayed still. Wondering if she knew he was awake. Wondering what happened next as she inhaled down the line of his neck. So close it tickled. Wanting to kick her away and curl up. Wanting the Dana who'd looked up at him when he'd saved her on the dock. He wanted that. Not this. Not-

"You'll help me...won't you?" she whispered, nudging into his armpit as she settled close. Humming a deep, animal sound as his throat worked. "You'll put it out, right? The fire? You'll help me fix it, Marty. ...Won't you?"

The animal under his human parts, the thing people called instinct, _screamed_.

* * *

The next morning, he told her he was going to get water.

And he did.

He just didn't come back after.

* * *

Guilt burrowed deep. Unable to get away from it as he pushed through the underbrush. Slapping branches. Jumping over fallen logs. Running fast to nowhere as his lungs burned. Not sure if it was sweat or tears that stung his eyes as he tried to wipe them away. Vision blurred. Cheeks wet.

But the image of Dana waiting for him in the lonely cabin refused to be blinked away.

He figured that was the price for being a coward.

* * *

Afterwards, he'd wonder why it took her so long.

Maybe she figured he needed to try.

Maybe she was right.


	2. Chapter 2

She hit him running three days later, taking him down into a bed of soft moss and soil that stank of dark, earthy life. Getting a flash of animal teeth behind her human face as they slammed into the ground with punishing force.

He wheezed, kicking out. But she was already on top of him. Snapping teeth as a vicious growl rattled up her throat. It was a warning he should have recognized, but he was too stupid to stay still. Trying to buck her off as she straddled him. Nails digging bloody half moons through his shirt as he bit down on a whimper.

"You _left_..." she snarled, emphasizing the last word so strongly it put life into the cuff she dealt to the back of his head. Mashing his face into the ground. Nose aching, sprained. Tingling a rough warning as leaves and grass stuck to his cheeks.

She was strong.

Too strong.

She'd always been strong, but not like this.

Dirt itched between his teeth as she forced him to taste it. Keeping him down. The back of his neck painfully exposed as she breathed into the skin.

"You left me!"

The words rang through the trees, in his ears, down to his bones. So loud he couldn't help but whimper. Not sure if it was fear or guilt or the awareness that something else, something worse, could have heard it.

"Dana...please!"

Sharp nails raked down his back. Searing furrows that slowly filled with blood before spilling down his ribs and hips. He didn't scream. It hurt too much for that. Instead, his spine arched, almost unseating her.

"I can fix it..." she muttered, lips against the shell of his ear. Making him shiver, gorge rising as the metallic scent of blood thickened in the close air. "I figured it out, Marty. I know- I'm going to fix it."

He didn't know if the neurons that created pain and pleasure got mixed up in the wash of panic, but when Dana ground her pelvis harshly against his ass, he stuttered a moan. Eyes flaring open when he realized he was hard. Impossibly. Horribly. Sweetly. Hard.

"Shhhh..." she whispered, like she knew. Lips curled into the back of his neck like a predator's smile.

It was so fucked up he couldn't help himself.

He was too tired.

Too-

He clawed at the soft leaves. Feeling them disintegrate under his palms. Cock digging into the earth through his clothes as she kept him pinned. Forcing awkward humping movements he couldn't control until her hand wormed underneath him and palmed his cock.

His legs kicked out. Wheezing a whine.

"Dana!"

She kissed his neck with her teeth. Making the world spark in the most beautifully inconvenient way. Like when you discover something about yourself just a bit too late.

"You'll help me fix it…won't you Marty? You'll help me put it out?"

Her hand firmed around his dick, ignoring the crusts of gore and god knows what else as she jacked him off with short, stubby strokes that had him squirming into the dirt. Wanting more. Wanting to get away. Wanting to show his belly. Wanting to-

He broke.

"Yes, _please_ , just-" he moaned. Tasting dirt, blood, _her_ as Dana shredded his shirt with a single swipe of her hand. Fluttering tatters down his bloody sides so it would catch painfully when he tried to move. It didn't stop him. He was too far gone for that. Because even then he tried to fumble with her weight. Tried to find the muscle memory to unbutton his jeans. Desperate to feel something that wasn't completely horrible.

He needed it. Maybe not in the same way she needed right now. But close. Or maybe just-

" _Yes_. _Yes_. _Yes_..."

He didn't realize he was chanting it until he heard his neck crack. Only registering she'd flipped him on his back when the joints in his spine creaked. The pleads stuttered to a stop. Aware on a deep, ugly level that with just a bit more force, she would have snapped his neck.

But for some reason, that only made him harder. Cock like a brand against his zipper as she straddled him. He looked up at her, realizing that he hadn't until now. Somewhere along the line she'd lost her jeans and underwear - naked from the waist down. He bit at the inside of his cheek as she rubbed her core against his navel. Feeling her heat.

She was wet.

Oh, fuck.

_She was soaking._

Jesus.

Her hair was wild. Red and lank and perfect for the end of the world. And all he wanted was reach up and crush it between his fingers. So he did. Fingers itching. Muzzily surprised she let him.

He thought her hair would be soft.

It wasn't.

But he was too far gone to be disappointed.

The force behind it was almost painful when she ripped open the front of his jeans. Splitting the zipper and sending the button into dead space. He opened his mouth - maybe in shock, maybe to say something - and she took advantage. Biting a kiss before leaning back and staring down at him. Expression twisted into an animal smirk.

"You want it...don't you?" she growled. Talking through her teeth, blunt and shadowed like a lie. Pulling his shredded jeans and boxers until they trapped his thighs together. The friction making his head feel tight.

He wondered if that was her way of asking for permission. Part of the old Dana shining through whatever she was now. Trying. It was wishful thinking, he knew. But it made him feel better. It made him feel like it was okay. That it _could_ be okay.

"You know what my mind has been telling me?" She hummed, rubbing wet across his cock as she rode him with deliberate slowness. Letting him catch - just so - on the seam of her cunt before falling away again. Driving him fucking nuts as his fingers tightened around her hips. "The wolf... _she_ wants me to crush your windpipe between my thighs, just to see how you'd fight."

His right leg kicked out. The laces on his sneaker loose and tangling in the twigs.

He'd never been harder in his entire fucking life.

"I know you would. I can smell it. You ran...but I know you'd fight. Would you hit me, Marty? Would you show me? Show me how strong you are? How-"

He bared his teeth. Heart thudding in his ears when she snarled approvingly. Like she'd been waiting for it. Cock sloppy against the wet of her thighs - giving him a squeeze. But not giving him what he wanted. Her. _Now_.

"Dana!"

He didn't know where the suicidal urge came from. Maybe they'd been building up to this somehow. But he reached up and grabbed the thickest thatch of hair he could find and tugged her down on him. Slipping into her with a snap of his hips as she howled a furious note into the afternoon sky.

"Fuck!"

It had been a while. But that didn't explain the desperation that immediately washed over him as took her to the hilt. His hips pushing _upupup_ before she could move. Tightening her inner muscles around him as he hissed with that _too_ _much_ edge every guy understands, but can never describe.

She lifted up slowly, forcing him to let her, before dropping back down. Moaning into the still. And he was right there with her. Moving frantically. He couldn't hike himself up fast enough. He wanted to run her into the ground. To grind himself so deep he broke. He wanted to make her feel it. How fucking crazy she made him. How she'd forced this. How she'd done this to him and-

"Yes! Marty!"

He hiccupped a shattered sound when she tossed her head back. Eyes closed. Riding him with a loose, deliberate feeling that made something feral and unfamiliar roil inside his rib cage. She was so wet he could hear it. Drenching him from crown to sack with the kind of arousal you could smell. Heady. Thick. Encouraging the change in pace as she moved faster.

It still wasn't enough.

For a fast, terrifying beat he wondered if it would ever be enough.

Then-

He wasn't sure why it only occurred to him then, when her hands were loose on his shoulders as she braced herself. Nipples stiff and bouncing under the tatters of her shirt. But he didn't hesitate, not even when he realized her teeth were sharp behind parted lips. He pushed her onto her back in the undergrowth. Slipping out of her with a wet sound that made his dick twitch. Bracing himself on his elbows as she chewed a kiss into his shoulder. Snarling a violent sound that could have been anger or approval as her nails reminded him what running blood felt like.

"Christ! Dana...you're- fuck!"

He found her again with a curse. Sinking back inside with an exhale that hurt coming up. For the first time in days he wasn't thinking about the others. About the monsters. The old gods. The choice they'd made. This was an exorcism. This was about her being tight, hot and good around him. This was about his hands still shaking as they clenched around her hips. Groaning as he moved. Hollowing out a space shaped like them in the moss and dirt.

Her hips met his with a violent clash, demanding more.

And he tried.

 _Fuck, did he try.  
_  
But-

"Yes..." Dana breathed as pleasure surged and suddenly he was racing towards the fall. Hips stuttering. Breaking skin as his nails hooked human-deep into her skin. Threatening to slip. "Yes!"

Truthfully, he didn't even think about pulling out. In that moment he wanted the complication. He wanted to grind so deep that nothing of him would spill out. It would be a lie if he said he hadn't thought about it. That shit was too ingrained with horror stories from Sex Ed in high school. He knew what he was doing. But so did she. And she _knew_. She knew he was close. That was why she'd crossed her legs behind his back. Holding him there. Heels digging into his spine as he-

He collapsed on her, too selfish to be gentle as pleasure rocked through him in a way he couldn't remember ever being so good. Feeling loose inside his own skeleton as his fist curled around the trailing red of her hair. Aware on some level that she'd cried out - shaking. Face buried deep in his neck.

"Dana?"

He tried to lift himself away. Aware that her chest was rising and falling quickly. Bird-like and deceptively fragile underneath him. But his arm gave out instead, sinking his nose into her hair. He inhaled immediately, humming a deep sound before he tried again. Reeling. Dizzy. Sated. Overstimulated.

But instead of getting up, one of his hands went between them. Driven by some instinctual need to feel where they were joined. Tracing how she was spread tight around him. Wishing he could see as he lingered on her clit. Thumbing the swollen fat of it as their wetness eased the way. Making her moan. Squirming against him as she chased what he could give her. Sending her over the edge again - or maybe for the first time - as she squeezed around him. Making his cock jerk. Wanting so desperately to get hard again as the slick sound of his fingers in her made his gut clench.

It wasn't until he raised his head that he felt it. Reaching up to press his clean hand against his throat. Confused at the wetness. Looking down only for his palm to come back red. Coloring the lines of the inside like a microscopic river.

_She bit him._

He exhaled carefully as he pulled himself away, slipping out of her.

He thought he'd feel something.

Anything.

But all he felt was numb.

"You can be angry," she told him, pulling his head into her lap as he shuddered. Feeling warm, too warm, like he could feel the fever spreading from the bite. "You have a right to be angry."

"I am," he replied. Too tired to unpack the reason why he _wasn't_ angry at all. "I am angry."

It seemed like the right emotion.

He _knew_ it was the right emotion.

He just didn't feel it.

His lids were heavy, unable to smell anything but musk, earth and cum as Dana watched him closely. Lips still red with his blood as she slowly licked them clean. Each swipe of her tongue lush and enticing.

"I won't run," he whispered. A statement of intent or maybe an apology.

"I know," she told him, brushing the hair back from his face with surprising gentleness. "I fixed it."

He swallowed hard, eyes fluttering closed. Almost grateful for the inescapable tug of sleep as the dark took him down.

The last thing he saw from the inside of his eyelids was the cresting aurora of fire.

It was complimentary to the flames spearing down his veins as he started to shake.

Dana had been right, the world was on fire.

Only this time, there was no chance of finding water.

* * *

He'd ended the world.

Then she'd ended part of him.

He didn't think he had the right to judge, really.

He might, eventually.

Same as she might.

But he didn't think so.

Besides, sometimes silence is the best answer.


End file.
